


Starlight

by The_Torturer_Writes



Category: BlacKkKlansman (2018)
Genre: Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Dubious Consent, F/M, Gun Kink, Little Bit of Size Kink, Police, Prostitution, Rape/Non-con Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-28
Updated: 2020-07-28
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:42:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25574518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Torturer_Writes/pseuds/The_Torturer_Writes
Summary: From this prompt: flip zimmerman ties you down in the interrogation room, roughs you up, fucks you w/ his gun TwT I'm so sorry
Relationships: Flip Zimmerman/Reader, Flip Zimmerman/You
Comments: 16
Kudos: 51
Collections: Torturer Tuesdays





	Starlight

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kassanovella](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kassanovella/gifts).



> Not gonna lie. I struggled with this. I feel a certain way about cops, and knowing that cop assault is a real and true thing made this take a while
> 
> However, this is fantasy. IT'S FANTASY. and dubcon is valid fantasy. If you don't like it, or you don't want cop content anywhere on your radar, please do not read further. This is the moment for everybody to adult for themselves.
> 
> If you're still here, Flip is a sexy bastard and I did ultimately get into this idea.
> 
> C/N: Non-con/dub-con; gun play aka DEAD DOVE

You froze in absolute shock. Terror washed over you, an icy flood that dulled your senses. When finally your chest began to work again, you unleashed the sort of howl that certainly would have drawn questions had your dirty panties not been stuffed far into your mouth. As it was, the sound only came out as a muffled, garbled half-wail.

It was his gun. His fucking gun.

“Aw. Not having a good time,  _ Starlight? _ ”

He all but spat the fake name at you, and you launched into another set of futile struggles. Bent over the interrogation table, you were shackled to its opposite end by the sort of cuffs he used for big, drugged-up men. They were thick, and they bit into your wrists something fierce. 

Bruises already bloomed beneath your skin from those cuffs, from the hard line of the table at your thighs, from the door frame where he’d ‘accidentally’ slammed you as he brought you in.

“I keep seeing you here.” He rounded the table, dragging his fingers along your hip. At your head, he crouched down, getting eye to eye. “What is it? Like getting fucked so much you gotta whore yourself around town?”

He stood, tangled his fingers into your hair, and ground your face into the crotch of his jeans, forcing you to feel the erection barely contained there.

“Or not getting fucked right?” He bent down to your ear, voice low but all jagged edges and disdain. “Because right now, your cunt is crying all over the barrel of my gun.”

You shook and sobbed, trying to turn away and hide your shame. You couldn’t deny that Flip was the sexiest motherfucker you’d ever seen in your life. Nor could you deny the number of times you’d pretended the Johns were him just to make it through. 

And now, you couldn’t deny how goddamn  _ ready _ your body was even in the direct center of your fear. Because your legs  _ did _ tremble. Your toes  _ were _ curled. Your pussy  _ was _ liquid. And you absolutely  _ were _ clenching tight around that gun to keep it from hitting the floor.

You told yourself it was because you’d be shot if you dropped it. But lying to yourself was a hooker’s bread and butter.

Flip cupped your cheek and dragged his thumb through your tears and runny mascara. You knew you looked like a war zone, and you knew he liked it. Reaching into your mouth, he dug out your filthy underwear and threw them on the ground. He only gave you five seconds’ worth of breath before he leaned in and bit your lower lip until you jerked against your bonds and tried to dislodge him. And then, he licked at the blood pooling there.

“Please, Flip. Please let me go. I swear you won’t see me in here again, and I won’t tell anybody about this. I will disappear! I swear.”

“The only thing I want to hear,” he dug his fingers into your cheeks so hard, you tasted new blood from where your teeth scraped, “is ‘Thank you, Detective.’”

“N-no!” You shook your head wildly, desperate to make him see reason. “You can’t do this! I’ll scream! Someone will hear you!”

The slap that cracked across your face echoed in the little room. Your eyes rolled back into your head, and your ears rang. You struggled to breathe as he lifted your head by pulling your hair.

“What did I fucking say?”

You whimpered and twisted, feeling the now-warmed metal shifting inside of you. Tugging on the cuffs and chains once again, you swallowed glass and looked down at the floor. When it came, your voice was small, empty, defeated.

“Thank you, Detective.”

He shoved your head back into the table and disappeared into your periphery. His fingers shifting the gun in your pussy jarred you into stillness because you were sure that any miniscule movement, any breath he didn’t like, was a squeeze of the trigger.

When it was dislodged from your body, you exhaled a shuddering sigh of relief. Laying your cheek against the table, you sniffled and tried to hide the new dribble of tears.

“Thank you, Detective.”

Seeming pleased with your memory, he rewarded you with a ‘Mm’ and shook your ass to watch it jiggle. It was what came next that catapulted you into a new wave of panicked fight.

His two large fingers scooped through the slick still leaking out of your pussy and rubbed them up in a line between your buttocks. You stomped and tried to push the table away from him, and yourself with it. You shouted objections again and again, but he ignored it all, and you started to believe either you’d be gang raped by the whole force or nobody else was here to help you.

You doubted they would care about a lowly prostitute anyways, and you dissolved into sobs all over again.

First it was a finger, rubbing in the tangy lubricant and breaching the perimeter. Then it was two, stretching you bit by bit until you gasped. Finally, it was oval metal, and you wailed at the burn of it. You dropped into delirium as he lodged his .45 into your ass good and deep.

He cracked you so hard on the ass, you jumped right back into yourself.

“T-tha…thank you, D-detective.”

The jangle of his belt drew your attention. You dared not look over your shoulder, but you spent many a night wondering what his dick looked like. Your mouth watered on its own, without the rest of you, and you angrily spat blood on the floor. What a fucking traitor, your body.

He didn’t give you any warning. There wasn’t a gentle nudge through your labia or a smear through your wetness to get you ready. He just wedged the fat head of his cock into your opening and thrust in with brute force. And once the seal was broken, he gouged at your cunt inch by torturous inch until it made room for him.

“Fuck, you’re tight for a whore.”

You gasped and cursed under your breath. You were only tight because he was so fucking big. Wide and long, you thought you could surely feel the end of his dick in your gut when he finally bottomed out.

“Thank you, Detective.” It was half a groan and half a whisper.

Flip squeezed your hips hard, leaning into you to claim that last centimeter of your pussy. Digging his nails into your meat, he pulled nearly all the way out only to slam back in with a grunt. He stretched you with each drag, and you thought he was going to pull your cervix out on the recoil.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Flip.” 

He didn’t chastise you for the mistake. He only wrapped his hand around the gun and pushed it further into you. You felt his finger slide against your ass cheek to rest at the trigger, and you shook your head wildly.

“Nonono! I’m sorry! THANK YOU DETECTIVE.”

Seemingly satisfied, that dangerous hand tangled into the skirt bunched around your middle and used it as a handle to pull your body back into his jarring hips. He threw himself into a terrible, rough pace, and you fought to breathe. You couldn’t even moan. Every crash of his body against your ass shook loose a whimper.

It was too much. Your head lolled, your eyes blurred, and your mouth hung open, adding drool to your tears. His dick was mind-numbing, shooting off fireworks deep in your core and spreading fire to lick up the length of your spine.

The weapon in your ass only added to your insanity because how fucking sick was it that your cunt clenched every time it moved, every time you remembered that it was there.

You only partially heard him suck in a hiss of breath through gritted teeth, and you could only sort of feel the slap of his thighs against yours. Every ounce of your attention was centered upon the drag of his cock and how much deeper, wider he fucked you with every pass.

“Mm, that’s it. Tighten up that pussy. You must get paid real well for this good cunt.”

His words prompted your body to obey without question. Your everything tensed, contracting around his pistoning cock. You even stood onto your toes to give him that much more of your eager pussy, to hear the squelch of him fucking you bounce off the bare walls.

Pleased by your vulgar display, Flip rammed your sloppy cunt, choking off your breath with obscene bliss. He growled and gripped his gun tight, losing himself to the control, to the downright meanness of it. 

Flushing, burning up, you clung to the table, unable to do anything else but hold on. He wouldn’t let you cum; it wasn’t about you. You were nothing but some two-bit hooker, a hole to fill. Tears stung your eyes at the fight within because part of you wanted to be upset that you weren’t a person in his eyes, and part of you didn’t give a single shit as long as he kept fucking you like this.

His groans increased, thundering from his chest in the most enticing way. He heaved and lifted you off of your feet in his frenzy to get just the angle he wanted. And when he did, when you were tipped just the perfect way, he roared and buried his cock as far into you as he could.

As his orgasm surged, he tore the .45 from your ass and fired off four rounds into the floor. You jumped and cried out, convinced that he shot you, that he ended your useless, worthless life at the end of his dick.

The weapon clattered to the floor, though, within your line of sight if only to prove to you that you weren’t dead. You quaked with adrenaline - fear and fucking melting your mind. Dazedly, you stared at the wall, eyes glossy and blinking slow.

“Th-thank you, Detective.”


End file.
